Friday, July 22, 2011

Yes, we Harry Potter addicts were among those who went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2on opening weekend. We just had to as the anticipation had reached frenzied levels. The Eldest Boy and I went to see the movie on Saturday morning and The Girl accompanied The Spouse on Sunday morning to catch Harry Potter in all his glory. (The Youngest Boy is only on book six of the seven-book series – Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince – and we didn’t want to spoil his reading experience so he’s only seen movies one through five.)

I, personally, adored the movie. Cried four times, much to the shock of The Eldest Boy. What did my two resident Potterheads think of the cinematic finale of the series that has so influenced their childhoods? I wrote about their reactions over on CliqueClack Flicks. Check out my bibliophiles’ assessments here.

Learning The Mentalist’s Backstory

Back in May I wrote about how watching The Mentalist with The Eldest Boy has become “our thing.” After watching the dramatic, tension-filled season finale that month, we decided that we needed to go back in time, back to the first season of The Mentalist to find out the backstory about this whole Red John business.

So last night we started our journey and watched the first two episodes. We were stunned to see Eric Stonestreet, who plays the hilarious Cameron on Modern Family, playing a murderer who threatened the life of The Mentalist guy, Patrick Jane. So far, so good.

Outside Resistance

Okay, so it’s like a convection oven outside right now with 90+ degree heat (closer to 100 today), plus lotsa humidity. So I can understand why the kids don’t want to go outside and hang out in that soupy discomfort. That’s entirely reasonable.

But when the weather HASN’T made you feel like you’re walking through a pot of beef stew, I’ve been surprised to encounter enthusiastic resistance to my suggestions that they . . . wait for it . . . GO OUTSIDE. Oh, the horror!!

We have a trampoline, a basketball hoop, a badminton/volleyball net, rollerblades, a hockey net/soccer net, driveway chalk and playground balls (for Four-Square), footballs, Wiffle Ball stuff, scooters, bikes, a very battered pogo stick and a play structure complete with a little fort-like thing which affords them privacy. It’s like a kid amusement park here. And yet they still resist when I, seeking some quiet so I can write in my office without hearing "It's my turn!" "No, it's MY turn!" (*scuffle, scuffle*), suggest that they partake of those amusements . . . OUTSIDE. "Take a book outside if you don't want to play," I pleaded one day.

It has almost (I repeat, almost) made me want to do what essayist David Sedaris wrote that his mother used to do with him and his siblings when they were young: Shove them outside and lock the door. However I’ve not reached that point. Yet.

Poop in the Pool

This year we joined a summer swimming club, as we have for several years running. (Since I'm a lousy swimmer, it was important to me that my kids be strong ones.) I tend to take the kids to the pool in the late afternoons, depending on how much writing I’ve completed during the day, or The Spouse will bring them in the early evenings to give me a break.

Yet twice in the past two weeks, the kids and The Spouse have returned home early, spoiling the blessed peace in our domicile, because the pool had been evacuated because some kid pooped in it. Nothing's more of a summer buzzkill than poop in the pool.

Particularly vexing, last night The Spouse was swimming right near where said excrement was spotted on the pool floor. As soon as they came home, they all took showers.